


All Things Return At Night

by gaydeorain



Series: Colors and Sounds [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergence, Circle!AU, Creampie, Cullen is a little bit of an ass, Cullenlingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feels, Female Ejaculation, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Mages and Templars, Masturbation, May/December Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Squirting, The Harrowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydeorain/pseuds/gaydeorain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amalia Trevelyan of Ostwick is an apprentice mage of remarkable ability, but she is more well-known for her expulsions from various Circles due to her…history with Templars, which has prevented her Harrowing. At her new home in the Kirkwall Circle, she is given an ultimatum; either change her ways to undergo the Harrowing in order to become a full-fledged mage, or face being made Tranquil. A new Knight-Captain to the Kirkwall Circle, Cullen Rutherford, is a boorish Templar placed in her charge to keep her in line with the rules of the Circle and his strict and no-nonsense attitude quickly work Amalia's nerves. Nothing bad will come of that, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hello. This is first work on here! I hope you enjoy it^^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amalia gets kicked out of a Circle, again.

The Ferelden Circle at Lake Calenhad, a rather populated one filled with prestigious mages and many a templar dedicated to keeping order. Amalia Trevelyan arrived not three months before as a highly skilled and respected mage. She was a beautiful woman with brown skin, freckles that peppered her nose, olive green eyes, thick ink black hair that was past her shoulders and always slightly unkempt, and the body of a woman who was well-fed, traits unusual for a Trevelyan; they were more commonly known for their fair skin, waif forms, and blonde hair. This led many to believe that she was of Tevinter (she indeed had Tevinter in her blood, but far down the family line). Not only that, she was known for scandalous rumor. She supposedly had more precarious relationships with high-ranked Templars at her first Circle in Ostwick. She was an excellent student and a fast-learner, but her reputation preceded her. She was prevented from undergoing her Harrowing and expelled for erratic behavior.

When the Circle’s First Enchanter walked to Amalia’s quarters, she expected to find the mage reading over her notes, but walked in on something she wished she hadn’t.

She was definitely not reading.

Amalia hadn’t heard the First Enchanter open her door. Her loud moans mingled with the soldier’s grunts of effort and echoed throughout the room. She was still wearing her robes, but they were hiked up by the soldier’s calloused hands. They were on the bed with Amalia on top, face glistening with sweat and skin slightly flushed.

“Lady Trevelyan,” came the stern voice. The mage turned toward the door and saw the First Enchanter leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed, a look of indignation clear on her slightly wrinkled face.

“F-First Enchanter!” Amalia nearly shrieked as she crawled off the man and rearranged her smallclothes underneath her robes. The soldier fell off Amalia’s bed trying to pull his breeches back on. He stumbled over his words, trying to excuse himself, but the First Enchanter stopped him.

“Not a word, Gerald,” she spoke stiffly. “Your Knight-Captain will hear of this. Leave!” He scrambled out of the room and closed the door behind him.

“This is the fourth time you’ve been caught in bed, second time with a templar, and the last, young lady.”

Amalia stood from the bed and tried to correct her mussed up hair, but to no avail.

“First Enchanter, I can explain—”

“Explain what? How catching you in the throes of passion with a templar was just an illusion? This behavior is unacceptable, especially for someone with such promising prospects of becoming a Senior Enchanter after the Harrowing! I have grown quite tired of defending your secret. You will be sent to Kirkwall’s Circle so that you may be dealt with there.”

Amalia sighed and nodded in response. The First Enchanter was right; the first time she’d been caught in bed with a templar, it was by a fellow mage who wanted to borrow her notes on restorative magic. Naturally, she’d expected to be expelled immediately like she had been at Ostwick, but the First Enchanter, an older woman who admitted to previously being in a relationship with a templar in her youth, covered her tracks, but warned that overindulgence in one’s desires is frowned upon by the Maker. Still, even with the First Enchanter’s defense, she knew that she went too far this time.

“This is a dangerous path, Amalia,” the First Enchanter said with worry in her voice. Her words cut like a knife; she very rarely used Amalia’s given name when addressing her. “You have yet to undergo your Harrowing. If you carry on like this, you risk being made Tranquil or executed.”

“You have no choice but to leave for Kirkwall in the morning; consider yourself expelled from this Circle. I will send word of your arrival to the First Enchanter there along with your phylactery. I want to be perfectly clear when I say that this is your last chance; squander it at your own peril.”

The First Enchanter turned and left the room. Amalia let out a deep sigh and started to pack her things. Aside from a few robes and books, she was not allowed much in the way of personal effects as a general rule for all mages in the Circle. She removed her robe and changed into her night tunic, a simple crimson shirt with a tie front that dangled over her chest. She returned to her bed and pulled the covers up over her head. With luck, she may get a few hours of rest before the First Enchanter came to wake her up at dawn to leave for Kirkwall. Her eyelids grew heavy; the templar she was in bed with exhausted her beyond her expectations. She turned on her side to blow out the candle on her nightstand and fell asleep soon after.

****

The sun’s bright rays shone through the window. Amalia pulled the covers over her head with a groan and tried to return to her dreams, but was quickly disturbed by loud banging on her door. The First Enchanter barged in with two templars and pulled the covers from Amalia’s bed; she shivered as her body made contact with the cold air.

“Lady Trevelyan, it’s time,” came the First Enchanter’s voice. Finally, Amalia opened her eyes, defeated. She rose from her bed and went to her desk where she left her rucksack the night before. She changed into her robes and put on her wool cloak over it; it was winter in Ferelden, a brutally cold season. The Circle was near Lake Calenhad, so traveling to Kirkwall was going to take at least a week to get there; from the Circle to the ports of Highever would take five days, and a boat to Kirkwall would take two days. Aside from where she was raised in Ostwick, she never ventured past the Free Marches, so Kirkwall would be a whole new opportunity. 

At least it would be a little warmer.

She left her room and the spire with the First Enchanter and the templars to go to the stables. After attaching the saddle to her steed, she hopped on and secured her rucksack, attaching it to the saddle. The two templars mounted their horses behind her and made their way to the gates. The First Enchanter stood by the gates as Amalia’s horse slowed to a stop by her.

“The Kirkwall Circle is an entirely different beast, Amalia. I hope that you will do better there, for your sake.”

“I’ll do my best, First Enchanter.”

“Hopefully this will serve as a lesson to you to better control yourself in Kirkwall. May the Maker watch over you,” the First Enchanter said. She gave a deep bow as the horses trotted away, the gates slamming shut behind them. 

They rode together in silence for several hours, only stopping to eat until nightfall caught up with them. Amalia pulled the hood up on her cloak, but to no avail; the cold wind was nigh brutal. To her relief, her company decided to set up camp for the night to shield against the bitter cold that threatened to freeze them to death. She sat by the small fire as the soldiers set up their tents, eating the jerky that was provided to her. Not long after, the soldiers joined her after setting up the tents.

“Have any of you been to Kirkwall before?”

“Aye,” one of the soldiers replied. “Spent little time there, but I hear their Circle is no joke. You’d best keep your legs closed while you’re there or you risk far worse than just being made Tranquil.”

Amalia bristled at his comment. As easy as it would be to simply kill them and run away, she did not have possession of her phylactery; it was delivered separately to the Kirkwall Circle’s First Enchanter. She could turn apostate, but she didn’t want to be on the run for the rest of her life or before she was caught and killed. Erring on the side of reason was her best recourse. She didn’t retort, but got up and retreated to her tent with a flair of her cloak. After setting her things away, she laid on the ground with her cloak wrapped tightly around her to protect from the cold. Amalia quietly said a prayer to Andraste and closed her eyes; sleep quickly claimed her, exhausted from the day’s travel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amalia meets Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, my dearies! Anyway, here is a picture I drew of my Trevelyan if you wanted a visual to go along with who you're reading about^^ It took me exactly 7000 years to figure out how to put this on here HEH [click this thang](http://40.media.tumblr.com/ded753f587cb7b91237c219a9d6e1101/tumblr_o1wbe11dH41rwwllgo1_1280.png)

Nine days later…

It took longer than usual to reach Kirkwall due to the heavy snow; nine blighted days with templars who proved to be horrible company, especially on the ship. Amalia was seasick most of the way and spent most of the time vomiting into a bucket while they laughed and jeered at her misfortune. This time, she seriously considered setting them on fire, but would’ve been thrown off overboard if she did. When the city came into view, she thanked the Maker endlessly and got off the boat, pleased to be on solid ground once again. It was barely snowing, although it was still freezing cold. They would have to walk the rest of the way for only a few more hours before reaching the Circle. Her mind wandered to previous comments about Kirkwall, how the First Enchanter said that it was an “entirely different beast”. Were conditions worse than at Lake Calenhad? Ostwick?

When they finally reached the Circle, it was markedly drabber than Lake Calenhad. Amalia sighed heavily at the depressing scenery and made her way to the spire. Inside, she walked in on a heated conversation between an elven mage and a templar who looked to be in charge.

“You need to keep better watch of these _mages_ , Orsino. I order you to further restrict their movements around the Circle,” the woman spoke loudly and was clearly irritated, her arms crossed in front of her. Her voice was almost shrill because she was so angry.

“We can’t restrict them more! Mages are not _slaves_!” They turned around once the door to the spire shut around them and quieted themselves.

“Knight-Commander Meredith, we have arrived from Lake Calenhad with the mage Amalia Trevelyan,” one of the templars standing next to Amalia spoke. She stepped forward and nervously shifted as the Knight-Commander approached her. The woman still had her arms crossed and looked down at Amalia in every sense of the phrase.

“What is she here for? I can’t imagine it’s for something good,” Meredith spat out, still looking at the mage with venom in her eyes.

“She can’t keep her legs closed,” one of the templars said. “You might want to consider quartering her separately.”

Amalia felt the heat rise in her cheeks as Meredith made a disapproving grunt. Mere moments after arriving at the Circle and a huge black mark has already been set against her.

“Hmm. I’ll make sure she is closely watched. I know exactly who to place in her charge to keep her in line,” Meredith said. “Deal with her, elf.”

With that, she left with the two templars, possibly to see them back to the port to return to Lake Calenhad. Orsino walked up to Amalia and put a hand on her shoulder. His touch was slightly comforting in spite of being utterly humiliated seconds after meeting him.

“Come, child. I will show you to your room.”

“Are you really going to keep me away from the others?” Amalia asked in a small voice. She wasn’t exactly a very outgoing person, didn’t socialize much and only had a few associates at her previous Circles, but forced isolation seemed worse.

“I’m sorry,” Orsino said, albeit solemnly. “I’d rather just follow Meredith’s orders or risk further spiting her. It’s not a death sentence and if anything, it will help you concentrate better on your studies and prepare you for your Harrowing.”

Even though they reached her quarters moments ago, Orsino was surprisingly willing to answer the myriad of questions about Kirkwall. It was nightfall, so the elf left Amalia in her room for the day and made it perfectly clear that he expected her to be ready for her classes first thing in the morning. When the door closed behind him, she sighed loudly and looked around her room; it was small and had the bare essentials similar to her room at Lake Calenhad; a bed, a nightstand, a tiny closet, a desk, and a wash basin. She set down her rucksack and emptied it, placing her robes and cloak in the closet. Amalia plopped on her bed with a book on alchemy, once again exhausted from traveling almost nonstop for the past week. She was immediately disturbed by a series of loud knocks and made a loud exasperated noise getting off her bed. She was not sure who was going to be on the other side of the door; perhaps it was Orsino with more orders and expectations? Or Meredith? Amalia shuddered at the thought. When she opened the door, she realized very quickly how wrong she was.

She was met with a stunning pair of amber-colored eyes from a man taller than her, almost a full head’s worth. She looked at him with wonder in her eyes. Maker’s breath, was he a gorgeous man! Was he the one who was going to keep watch of her? She suddenly decided that maybe isolation from the others won’t be so bad after all.

“Good evening, miss. I’m Cullen Rutherford, Knight-Captain of this Circle. I was placed in your charge.”

He extended a gloved hand to her and she eagerly shook it, gripping him firmly. Even through the leather, she felt the warmth of his hand.

“I’m Amalia Trevelyan of Ostwick. Pleased to meet you.”

“Right. I’ll see you in the morning.” Cullen spoke quickly and left. 

Amalia’s face warmed at his sudden departure, slightly offended. Was it something she said? She wished she could talk to him more, learn where he was from, how long he’d been a Templar. There were so many things she wanted to know, but was left with more questions than she had answers. She retreated back to her bed and reopened her book with a small sigh. She didn’t get very far in her book before she was distracted by her brief meeting with Cullen. All the other men she’d been with were not ugly, but they barely shone a light to Cullen; he looked like he came straight out of one of the trashy Antivan romance novels she’d read before. It didn’t take long for her mind to wander about the warmth beyond his hands among many other things, but shook them out of her head and returned to her book with renewed concentration. No matter the distractions around her, she was going to undergo her Harrowing, devilishly handsome templar be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me some comments to let me know what you think of this so far; I'd very much appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amalia remembers her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay! I had a ridiculously busy weekend between a cheerleading competition, a bridal shower, and a long assignment for class ;; Anyway, here is the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Amalia was startled awake by loud wrapping on her door. No matter how many times she’d been rudely awoken out of sleep, she never got used to it. Before she could get up and answer, the door swung open to reveal Cullen in typical Templar garb.

“Can I help you?” She spoke as she looked up at him blearily, still terribly sleepy and very much annoyed. The sun was barely out and she couldn’t possibly fathom why she was being disturbed out of her sleep so early in the morning.

“You’re expected by Orsino. Your lessons are to begin immediately.”

Cullen stood by the door with his arms crossed as he waited for her to get out of bed. Amalia was beginning to change her opinion of the man and it wasn’t a high one, even though she was aware that he was handsome beyond measure. No matter how good she thought he looked in his casual attire with the first buttons of his shirt open (Andraste preserve her, she tried her damnedest to ignore it) when he first greeted her the night before, that didn’t stop her from thinking that he was insufferable. Perhaps it would be easier to commit to her studies if the other people she was bound to meet were just as much of a jerk as he was. Amalia set her robes down on the bed to change after taking them out of the closet. She started to take off her nightshirt but quickly remembered that she didn’t bother to wear her smallclothes underneath; she was glad that her dark skin was able to conceal the massive blush that would have shown on her lighter siblings. She turned and waited for Cullen to take a hint and step out. He didn’t.

“Do you mind?” Amalia asked him, very clearly annoyed that he was still in her room.

“You need only ask for privacy, not demand it like some spoiled brat. You would do well to remember that the next time you decide to open your smart mouth or risk being severely punished.” With that, Cullen walked outside of her room and closed the door. 

“Well, I never!” Amalia huffed. What an ass! She quickly changed and opened the door, making a brisk walk to the bottom of the spire with Cullen close behind.

“Slow down!” he ordered, but she ignored him and walked even faster. She was relieved when she finally reached the training grounds and saw Orsino sitting in the shade with a book in his hand and left Cullen to his devices. She was grateful to be rid of him, if only for a while. The elf got up to greet her, but noticed her annoyed expression.

“I see you’re in fine spirits this morning,” Orsino said with a shred of humor in his voice.

“Is he always this incorrigible? This is only my first day here and I’m already sick of him!” Amalia turned around and saw that Cullen was still standing close to her and was definitely within earshot. If it could show on her face, she would have been beet red.

“Watch yourself, mage,” he warned. “Or you will find yourself bound with lyrium chains and isolated for a month.”

Amalia retorted with the only appropriate response by sticking her tongue out at him, further stoking his ire. She expected him to retaliate, but was pleasantly surprised when he fell silent. Orsino cleared his throat and Amalia quickly turned her focus to his lessons. The day was largely uneventful after that; she spent much time with the elven mage and one of the Enchanters who specialized in Creation, the most difficult of the four Schools. She started to think that she was purposely being subjected to the hardest lessons because of her known insubordination, but managed to survive the day regardless. 

The sun was setting as Orsino dismissed her for the day, reminding her to be prepared for another busy day in the morning. Amalia snuck into the wine cellar and lifted a bottle of spiced wine to drink with her sweet rolls and ventured into the Circle’s garden to sit on a bench and relax for a short while. It was still very cold, but the snow was melted by the bright rays of the sun throughout the day. When she got there, no one else was around and was relieved. She sat with her legs crossed on the bench and placed the wrapped sweet rolls in her lap. With great effort, she pulled the corkscrew from the bottle and poured some of the sweet-smelling wine into a small cup she carried with her; she loved spiced wine almost as much as life itself. She brought the cup to her lips and took a long sip, closing her eyes to savor the flavor as the spices tickled her nose. She relished at the small burn she felt in her belly as it went down; after a long day’s work, this was exactly what she needed. She was liable to have an orgasm with the delicious combination of the wine and the sweet rolls due to her all-encompassing sweet tooth.

Amalia thought of her old home then, long gone since she was taken by the Chantry to her first Circle at thirteen; her magic abilities surfaced when she accidently set a boy’s clothing on fire after he pushed her into a mud puddle. The teachers saw the incident and immediately reported her to the Chantry mothers. Out of her three sisters and one brother, she was the only one who was able to use magic. She remembered how her mother begged and screamed for them not to take her, but they didn’t listen and took her to a Circle far away from home. She loved her mother dearly; she would cook sweet rolls filled with cheese and always ate more than she should. She had an appetite as a child and was quite chubby, but her siblings teased her endlessly for it. She would cry and cry at their jokes, but her mother always sat with her after her siblings went to bed and comfort her with more sweet rolls; she never truly stopped Amalia from eating what she wanted as she was the youngest and spoiled her rotten. The memory of her family brought tears to her eyes, but quickly wiped them off, blaming the fact that she drank a little too quickly on her sudden change in mood. Her mind swam as she looked down at the stolen bottle, nearly empty. 

The sun was long set and it was getting even colder. She hadn’t taken care to bring her cloak with her. She got up from the bench with a slight sway and picked up the bottle, placing it in her rucksack to finish it off when she got back to her room. Maybe then she would—

“Lady Trevelyan,” a stern voice called out and brought her crashing down from her alcohol-induced reverie. It was none other than Cullen, standing by the fence leading to the garden, a smug look on his face as if he’d caught her red-handed.

“W-What is it?” Amalia tried her hardest to speak normally, but the slur gave her away.

“You were to report back to your quarters after your lessons, yet here I find you, dumb with drink and bleating like a goat for Maker knows what!”

Had she been crying audibly? She didn’t realize at al, but now she was thoroughly embarrassed.

“You were watching me?!”

“I was watching you further incriminate yourself. To think you were foolish enough to steal from the wine cellar and think no one was watching. Come with me to your room. _Now_.”

“I’m sick of you!” Amalia puffed her cheeks out and let out a frustrated yell behind her teeth and walked away quickly. Cullen was fast on her heels as she tried to distance herself from him, but to no avail. Her head was still swimming from drink and very quickly lost her balance trying to outwalk him, cursing her inebriated deposition. She was certain that she was going to fall and hurt herself, but was surprised when she was caught by him, an arm wrapped securely around her waist. She was cruelly reminded of his beauty being this close to him, his features locked with concern and mouth pressed into a hard line, exposing the scar that rested on his upper lip. His amber eyes were narrowed and could practically feel them ghosting on her skin, checking her for injury. He was wearing casual clothes like the night before as his chest was pressed against her body. Cullen’s body was so _hot_ , she thought he was running a fever. A familiar ache radiated through her body, certain that the wine she drank was making her feel so easy, so pliant. Finding herself thoroughly scandalized, Amalia pushed away from him before he could ask questions.

When they reached her room, she slammed the door in his face without saying another word and slid down the door to the ground, resting her head in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *winks and makes finger guns*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amalia and Cullen have a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the (kind of) "Slow Burn-ish"? tag I used? Yeah, keep that in mind haha. How does the upload schedule feel for you guys? I'm trying to keep it no more than 3-4 days apart...lemme know what you think/other suggestions!

Weeks passed without incident since that day. Amalia continued working hard during her lessons and practiced endlessly, sometimes going days without rest. Her body was exhausted and she hoped to undergo her Harrowing soon, but Orsino refused to speak on it. Still, she was suspicious. Her lessons were frequently lasting longer than usual. Instead of going from sunrise to sunset, they were starting before the sun even rose and ending long after it set; that is only done when the Enchanters are preparing an apprentice for their Harrowing. She didn’t know much about the Harrowing itself, but one thing was clear to her from the precious little that she did know; it was essentially a life-or-death process and that scared her.

Her relationship with Cullen wasn’t helping matters, either. Ever since he saved her from falling down the spire steps after her drunken bender, he grew more impatient with her antics and more distant in general. He still spoke harshly and was constantly threatening her with punishment for not listening to his orders or not responding fast enough to his questions. Amalia was growing tired of his treatment, but there was nothing she could do; Knight-Commander Meredith was so frigid and treated her concerns as a joke. However, Amalia was incredibly strong-willed and her obstinacy knew no bounds when dealing with him. Because of this, things between them worsened; they were both constantly at each other’s necks.

There was a day when the Enchanters allowed all the apprentices a break, which was rare, but no one questioned it. She thought she was going to be alone, but was wrong; all of the soldiers in the Circle had to watch the apprentices in groups and Amalia was still kept away from them. She was confined to her room and of course, Cullen had to watch her, sitting on her desk chair that was positioned next to the door and facing her bed. She prayed to the Maker for a swift death, but it never came. 

Several hours into the “free” day, Amalia closed a book she was reading. She’d been reading in complete silence and had had enough.

“Ser,” she spoke cautiously. Cullen looked up at her quickly, seemingly waking himself up from sleep.

“What is it?”

“I want to leave my room. I have a mind for some fresh air.”

“Out of the question,” he responded quickly. “You are to remain in your room.”

Amalia pouted, but Cullen was not having it. She got up from her bed and fixed her mage skirts and approached him. Taking it as a veiled threat, he immediately got up and put his right hand on the hilt of his sword.

“What do I have to do to change your mind?” Amalia asked him, intending to bait him into an answer, “Get on my knees and beg?”

“You may get on your knees if you wish, but begging will not change my mind; it will only entertain me.”

Amalia was flabbergasted; she felt heat rising to her cheeks and turned away from him. Now, she was left with the fact that Cullen has possibly thought of her in such a compromising position before and it wouldn’t leave her head. She wanted to stay silent and ignore his comment, but her mouth moved before she could think of her words.

“I’m sure getting on my knees would be pleasurable to you, but I’m afraid I will have to decline.”

Amalia crossed her arms and gauged his reaction, but found that he was almost too good at hiding his expression and body language. His eyebrows quirked upward for a quick moment, but the rest of his face remained unreadable. Something changed at that moment. The tension between them that was usually almost palpable seemed to soften a little. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck nervously from Amalia’s closeness and determined stare, his cheeks lightly tinged with red. Maker, he was finding himself getting lost in those green eyes.

“I umm…I suppose I could…accompany you for a moment outside,” Cullen stammered. He motioned toward the door, which she very enthusiastically walked to. She practically floated down the steps and went to the only spot she knew outside of her room; the garden. The garden was well-maintained by a Tranquil who had a botany hobby. Amalia would see her watering the plants or cutting weeds from time to time, always leaving the garden better than what it was before she arrived. Her favorite spot was a few rows of crystal grace that grew beside the bench she sat on whenever she came to the garden. Cullen plucked one of the flowers and sat beside her, albeit at a slight distance. They sat in silence for a long while before Amalia spoke.

“Ser?”

“Please call me Cullen,” he corrected her.

“Where are you from, Cullen?”

Cullen looked apprehensive for a moment; he didn’t want to divulge too much, but decided to throw caution to the wind; he couldn’t deny that he found himself comfortable around her.

“I’m originally from a small village in Ferelden, second oldest of four. I’ve been a Templar for some years now.”

“I’m…I _was_ of noble birth; the Trevelyan name carries much weight in Ostwick, but I haven’t had any contact with my family since I was taken from them by the Chantry.”

There was a moment of quiet between them as Cullen picked the petals off of the flower.

“Do you miss your family?” He asked her.

“Every day.”

Amalia’s voice was heavy with emotion at her admission. He heard her sniff and looked at her; she quickly wiped the tears from her face before they fell, hoping that Cullen hadn’t seen it, but to no avail. He moved closer and placed his hand on her shoulder, gripping it firmly. Even through the leather, Amalia felt the radiating warmth from his hand that quickly spread throughout her body. Why was he always so warm? She thought of when he caught her and remembered the heat that she felt on her back. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, his amber gaze piercing her. She had a mind to lean over into his body, but decided against it when she remembered that they were not in private; any sign of affection between them would risk her getting expelled again. She retreated from the hand on his shoulder and stood up quickly.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don't apologize,” he interrupted her. "We are human...missing your family is normal, especially if you were close before you..."

He trailed off and looked out the garden window for a moment; the light in the room turned into a warm orange glow. 

“We should go back. It’s getting late.” 

She swore to herself that he almost sounded…disappointed…

They walked back to her room, but side by side for the first time since he’d been placed in her charge. When they reached her door, Amalia turned to look at him once more; he was staring intently. Her cheeks grew so hot that she swore that he could see it.

“Good night, Cullen.”

“Sleep well.”

Amalia closed the door and immediately tossed herself into her bed. The heat in her body was worse and felt a certain wetness pooling between her legs. She returned her attentions to the day Cullen first stood at her door, his hair slightly disheveled and shirt opened. She gingerly lifted her skirts up to her belly and smoothed her hands over her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat at the thought of his warmth engulfing her entire body once her hands pressed against herself, finding that she was _quite_ wet. She bit her lip to deaden her moans as she pleasured herself; she didn’t trust herself to stay quiet. Amalia brought herself to release a few moments later, body shaking and shocked that she whispered his name at the height of her orgasm. Even though she was by herself, she rearranged her robes and pulled the blanket over her head, thoroughly embarrassed.

Her dreams were plagued by thoughts of him for the first time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amalia fears her Harrowing and Cullen comforts her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be up since Valentine's Day...I am so sorry, family issues have really been screwing with everything. Hope you enjoy though!

Surely, Amalia misheard.

_“You will be undergoing your Harrowing tonight.”_

The sentence was still ringing in her ears as she stood in Knight-Commander Meredith’s office with Orsino next to the desk she was sitting at. Cullen was standing beside her, unmoving. It was midday. The birds outside of the spire were chirping loudly and the sun was beaming as usual, despite the bitter cold and the proverbial bomb that was just dropped in the room.

“Tonight?” Amalia asked, fear plastered on her features.

“Yes, tonight. Orsino believes it’s time. Be prepared.” Meredith answered impatiently and dismissed her, returning to the reports on her desk.

When they returned to her quarters, she froze in place by the door, the weight of the situation suddenly washing over her like she had been turned to ice by a spell. Cullen comforted her by resting a hand on her shoulder like he had done before, knowing that it would provide her with some relief. She sighed softly and leaned into his touch this time, thanking the Maker that were able to do this alone without worrying about any consequences. The world around them seemed to fall away; only they mattered now, if only for a moment.

“Are you afraid?” Cullen asked her, immediately regretting it. A stupid question.

“Of course I am…who knows if I’ll even survive?”

“I believe in you, Amalia. I’ve seen you in your lessons. You’re remarkable.”

"Hardly," she scoffed.

"I'm serious," he countered. "I've never seen anyone cast spells so effortlessly like you do. You make it look like an art form, the way the spells seemingly dance off your body...it is truly a marvel."

“Andraste preserve me…you can’t say things like that and expect me not to feel anything,” Amalia breathed out, overwhelmed by his words.

“I thought you didn’t like when I spoke unkindly?”

Amalia laughed a bit and leaned against the wall as Cullen moved closer. She felt his hands move up her arms, the heat from the tips of his fingers nearly setting her whole body to flames. She sighed as she let herself get lost in his arms. His hand rested under her chin and lifted it. He softly nudged her cheek with a thumb, forcing her to look at him, look into those Maker-forsaken eyes that were always gleaming with purpose.

“Cullen, I want you to…” Amalia stopped herself, the embarrassment mounting relentlessly.

“What do you want me to do?”

Amalia chuckled humorlessly at his question.

“Are you going to make me beg again? I’m beginning to think that you have a thing for—”

Cullen silenced her with a gentle kiss, pressing his body against hers. She hesitated for a moment, but quickly gave in, her hands resting on his broad shoulders. The kiss was everything she imagined it would be; tender, almost innocuous. Amalia cursed his armor, wanting desperately to feel his skin on hers. Cullen’s tongue pressed against her lips and she quickly granted him entry. There was a hunger there then, their tongues swirling and dancing around each other and exploring every inch of their mouths. It got intense too quickly; the passion ebbed and flowed too readily and Cullen began to fear the feelings that threatened to bubble to the surface. Amalia moaned wantonly against Cullen’s mouth, causing him to snap back to reality. They separated with Amalia nearly gasping for air. During the kiss, Cullen somehow managed to further muss her hair, which now looked slightly more ridiculous than usual. It reminded him of a lion’s mane and smiled fondly at the thought.

“That was…” Amalia couldn’t speak, still trying to catch her breath. She had _never_ been kissed like that in her life. She had no idea that Cullen, originally a brooding and crude _Templar_ , had the capacity to be so attentive and…affectionate. Her mind swam at the thought of other passions she wanted to experience with him.

“I…will see you tonight.”

“Okay.”

Cullen’s hand lingered upon her arm until he was too far to touch her and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it for a moment and let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Maker’s breath…”

He left Amalia’s quarters with a heavy heart; he didn’t have it in him to tell her that Meredith placed him in charge if she didn’t pass the Harrowing. He would have to be the one to kill her if she turns into an abomination without question. It was a severe lapse of judgment to get close to her and he regretted letting himself get carried away. He realized that the reason why he kissed her so feverishly was because he knew there was a chance that he might never be able to do that again. And he wanted to. He paid a visit to the Chantry to spend the rest of the free time he had praying before the Harrowing was to begin. He said selfish prayers and repented, begging the Maker that Amalia will hopefully survive the night.

****

Nightfall came too quickly. 

Orsino came to Amalia’s quarters to fetch her instead of Cullen; she half-hoped to at least have one last moment alone with him before the ceremony. Her fingers trembled as she secured the last clasp of an all-black robe that was specifically given to her for the occasion. Orsino’s similarly drab attire made her think that she was being prepared for her own funeral.

“Are you ready? Meredith and the others are waiting for you.”

“Y-Yes, First Enchanter,” Amalia replied with no real effort to hide the fear in her voice.

“Don’t be afraid,” the elf reassured her. “You will do fine.”

When they entered the room, the highest-ranked Templars in the Circle were all gathered and in full armor, with Meredith and Cullen standing behind a bowl that was raised by a pillar. They all looked gravely serious and the chatter amongst themselves stopped when Amalia came in with Orsino. He led her to the bowl and left her side to join the Templars who encircled her. It seemed they were to begin immediately.

“Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him,” Meredith started. “It is a blessing and a curse, one that should be treated with great responsibility…”

Meredith’s speech about her obligations to the Circle and to the Maker droned on until the words started to fade away. She turned to Cullen and caught his glimpse of her; there was a flash of an encouraging smile on his face that disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.

“This draught of lyrium will allow you to enter the Fade fully aware, unlike when we dream. The power of your will and your ability to resist possession will determine your fate. Drink.”

Amalia looked pensively at the bowl and then to Meredith, who impatiently crossed her arms as she picked up the bowl from the pillar. She had never taken lyrium, but knew of its effects from the Templars of her past that told her of its power. After another hesitant moment, she set the bowl to her lips and drank all of its contents. She closed her eyes and suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She struggled to keep her footing. She found that she couldn’t stand anymore and collapsed, Orsino rushing to her side and catching her to keep from injuring herself. The lyrium thrummed through her veins and her blood roared in her ears, muffling the sound around her. She turned quickly to Cullen, truly afraid, but saw nothing; her vision blurred until everything went black. No sound. No sight. Nothingness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amalia undergoes her Harrowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight warning for blink-and-you-miss-it dubcon.

When Amalia came to, she found herself in an area with unfamiliar architecture and a strange green glow that seemed to come from the sky. Broken pillars and dilapidated palaces surrounded her, pieces of marble floating in the air. There was only one place she could think of that would have such a blatant disregard for gravity; the Fade.

She walked around for a time and found a door to one of the somewhat intact buildings. When she went inside, the interior was nearly pristine and it bore a striking resemblance to her roomy home back in Ostwick. She was confused, but had to remind herself that she was in a dream and continued on. The place was eerily silent as she went from room to room until she found a bedroom. She walked in and the door shut behind her. She was alarmed, but calmed down as she walked around the room. Her hand ghosted over the top of a wooden cabinet, the dust collecting on her fingertips. Her eyes scanned the room and found nothing unusual, although the raised ceiling and spacious bed reminded her of her own room from her noble home. She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, completely uninterested. She fell back onto the bed and stared at the cracked ceiling, exposing the green light from outside into the room. It was strange that nothing was happening; she expected there to be a demon swarm that she would’ve had to fight through, but this was…markedly tame. Was her Harrowing just going to be a test of boring her to death?

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, not from exhaustion, but of pure _boredom_. She thought of Cullen, how he kissed her and held her in his arms, how she felt the scar on his upper lip as their kiss grew more heated, how his eyes pierced through her like the sharpest of blades. As she lie on the large bed, she felt her body getting warmer at the thought of him. She wanted that mouth on every inch of her body. She wanted to see if his tongue was talented at things other than kissing.

There was a shift on the bed that alerted her to the presence of another person, but she was not alarmed and closed her eyes again; it was a dream after all. She felt the hands in her hair, brushing the strands from her face. The touch was comforting and she hummed her approval. The hands wandered lower, past her collarbones and hovered over the top of her full breasts through her clothes. Amalia let out a soft moan as the hands slipped past her robe and cupped a breast, leaving her breast band intact.

“Do you crave for my touch? Just like this?” The voice was familiar, but distorted. Her eyes shot open as she got up and fixed her robes to preserve her modesty. Her eyes met with an amber pair, gasping when she saw who the person was.

“Cullen?”

No, it wasn’t him. It was just a dream.

“You don’t think it’s me? Even though I am standing before you?”

“This is…just a dream.”

“That may be,” Cullen said, his hands resting upon her hips. Amalia inched away, but his grasp on her was ironclad. “But wouldn’t you rather spend your days here with me instead? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Why have you appeared before me?” Amalia questioned him, trying to distract herself from the feeling of his hands on her.  
“You dream of me all the time. Why question it now? Come to me.”

Amalia felt heat rise to her cheeks as Cullen slowly pulled her to him on the bed, resting her on her back. He pressed his body to hers, his hands pushing away the robe from her shoulder to expose her dusky brown skin. He kissed her exposed collarbone, eliciting a small moan from her. His lips moved lower until he reached her band, using his teeth to pull it down and freeing her breasts. Amalia let out a shuddery breath, his hands joining his mouth. His tongue swirled around her nipple while he tweaked the other to hardness. He relished at the small noises she made and had an intense desire to have her screaming.

“Cullen,” she breathed out as he abandoned her breasts for greener pastures. His hands yanked her skirts up and palmed her mound through her smalls. He found that she was wet and groaned at her body’s reaction to him. His fingers rubbed small circles over her aching pearl. Amalia let out a louder moan as Cullen pressed his fingers against her more firmly. The sudden force behind his touch shocked her out of her daze. The feeling was strange; she felt like her body was weakening the more he touched her, as if her very life force was being drained away. She felt her limbs grow heavy and when he attempted to pull her smalls down, Amalia shook him off with what little strength she had left.

“I can’t,” Amalia said, rearranging her robes. “I feel faint.”

Cullen’s expression changed, a darker purpose laid bare for her to see. His eyes darkened, the amber glow replaced with beady red eyes. Horns grew from his head and curved at the tips. Cracks started to form on his skin, outlined with red. Cullen’s form changed to reveal something far more sinister than she’d ever imagined.

A desire demon. If her life wasn’t in mortal danger, she would laugh at the irony of it all. The demon had her pinned to the bed as it reached up to her neck and gripped it tightly, choking her. She struggled in its grip and gasped for air, but drew in no air as it held on even tighter.

“I will have you, human! Your body will be mine!” 

It bellowed in a distorted voice, claws digging into the skin of her neck and drawing blood. She yelled out in pain and tried to kick her legs out from under it to gain some kind of advantage, but its body crowded her and arrested her movements. Her hands reached up and grabbed at its arms in an attempt to loosen its grip, battling to stay conscious as the corners of her vision blackened. If she couldn’t find a way out of its death grip, she was going to be possessed and the Templars would kill her.

Amalia closed her eyes and focused her magic into her hands, causing them to heat up until her hands glowed bright red. The demon’s skin sizzled under her grasp until flames billowed around its arms and shot up to the demon’s face with blazing accuracy. The demon howled in pain and finally released her but was still on top of her. Amalia gasped and coughed as air returned to her lungs. Her hands glowed again as she unleashed a roaring torrent of flames. The demon screamed in agony; the fire was searing hot as it burned the demon into nothingness. The demon’s cries echoed as the room was engulfed in a bright light, blinding her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amalia and Cullen get a little reckless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all come down to this! This is the second to last chapter so I hope you enjoy it!

Amalia opened her eyes with an exhausted groan. She was laying on a bed unfamiliar to her, crowded by Orsino and a group of healers. She looked around and noticed that she was in one of the healing rooms in the spire. More importantly, she was _alive_ ; she survived her Harrowing.

“Ah, you are awake, child,” Orsino said with a sigh of relief. “It seems you have a will that was highly underestimated by the other enchanters. You’ve proven a great many people wrong this day.”

Amalia fell back onto the bed and smiled. It's over. _Thank the Maker_ , it's over!

“I couldn’t have done it without your guidance, First Enchanter,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Very well then. We will hold a feast to tonight so be sure you rest a little more.”

Orsino bowed slightly and left the room. The healers were still fretting to make doubly sure of no injury, but Amalia assured them that she felt fine. She had a mind to go to the Chantry and pray for a while before she returned to her room. 

When the healers finally left her an hour later, Amalia got up from the bed and left the spire to go to the Chantry in Hightown. It was mostly empty, save for a few clerics who were muttering verses of the Chant of Light to themselves as she passed them. She found a private room with a statue of Andraste next to a small window that let some light in, even though the sun was starting to set. She walked in and closed the door behind her and was pleased to find Cullen kneeling in front of the statue, reciting the Canticle of Trials. She knelt down beside him with no intention of disturbing him…initially.

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide.” he spoke. “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness—”

“—in the Maker’s Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.” Amalia joined him. He paused for a moment at the sound of her voice next to him, but continued the Canticle with her. One of his hands left his center to hold one of hers as they prayed together. Their fingers intertwined in a firm but comforting grip.

“I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here.”

Amalia opened her eyes once more and found that Cullen’s warm gaze was already on her. Her smile widened as he brought their hands to his lips and placed a reverent kiss upon her knuckles. Her heart swelled at his gesture. The journey to her Harrowing was long and arduous. She didn’t believe in herself enough to think that she would succeed, but here was this man, a _Templar_ , who instilled in her the faith she needed to see it through; she never anticipated that she would fall so quickly and so hard for this man.

“I’m pleased to see that you’re okay,” Cullen said with a smile. “I was worried when the enchanters rushed you out of the room. I thought that…I thought that things were not going to turn out well…but I do not wish to dwell on that. All that matters is that you’re alive.”

“Yes, I'm glad it's finally over.”

“I want to walk you back to your quarters before the feast tonight.”

“ _Just_ walk me back?” Amalia questioned him with a mischievous smirk. He stuttered an affirmative response and smiled wider as she saw his cheeks grow red.

“F-For now, yes,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I want to spend more time with you later while everyone is distracted stuffing their faces at the feast…if…that is…what you desire of me?”

“Yes! I mean...yes, I'd like that." Amalia corrected herself and cleared her throat. Had she really gotten so excited like that in front of him?

Cullen quirked an eyebrow at her eager response, but smiled nonetheless when she turned away to hide her blush. He let go of her hand as they left the Chantry and returned to the spire. 

Amalia opened the door to her quarters and found herself bombarded when she closed it. She walked backward until the backs of her knees made contact with the side of her bed, causing her to fall back on it with Cullen on top of her, attacking her mouth with his own. Their bodies molded together perfectly as they shared a feverish kiss, their tongues once again finding each other. Amalia let out a small gasp as she felt his hand push away her robe to expose her breast band and snaked underneath it to cup her bare. She arched into his touch as his thumb swirled around her nipple, the dark brown peak straining out at his attentions. Amalia broke free of his kiss to take a breath, but Cullen pressed his advantage. His mouth descended upon her pebbled nipple as he stroked the other to full hardness. His tongue was so hot and was driving her to insanity, moaning louder as he took her into his mouth.

“Cullen,” she moaned as her fingers mussed his hair. His cock stirred at the sound of her moaning his name so wantonly, but had no choice but to stop before things got too heated. He pulled away and Amalia let out a disappointed whine, too caught up in the moment to care how shameless it might have sounded. The feast was going to start soon and he did not want to be considered conspicuously absent at the same time as her; they would come looking. The risk was far too great and wasn’t worth the punishment that may follow. Not at the moment.

“As much as I'd like to continue this,” Cullen said as he helped her back into her robe. “I must go and report. I will be part of the guard at the feast tonight and I am sure they are expecting me.”

“Your teasing will be the death of me,” Amalia admitted with a sigh. “But do as you must. I will see you tonight.”

“I can’t wait.”

Cullen kissed her one last time before he walked to the door. He turned around and looked at her with a smile that was warmly returned before closing the door softly behind him. Amalia fell back on the bed with a small giggle like a love-struck teenager.

****

Amalia changed into the only formal gown she had; a simple black dress with a high collar and a deep dip in the front that left little to the imagination. She tried to control her hair and put it in a neat bun, but gave up and settled for a loose side braid. She walked in and sat down at the long table and helped herself to a plate of food consisting of various cheeses and red meats with a tankard of ale to wash it down. The hall was full of mages and some enchanters chatting amongst themselves with a handful of Templars lining the walls. Some of the mages paid her attention out of curiosity and conversed with her, but most left her alone. Since she was quartered separately from everyone else since she arrived in Kirkwall months before, there were many that she saw for the first time, but found that she wasn’t particularly interested in getting to know them. However, since her Harrowing was successful, she imagined that Orsino would move her to the more-communal mage’s quarters. She made a mental note to try to be more social if that were to happen.

When Amalia finished her meal, she refilled her tankard for the fourth time with more ale and took a swig; her head was a little foggy from intoxication, but pleasantly so. The other mages finished eating and were playing drinking games. Amidst the racket, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. 

“You look beautiful,” Cullen said, trying his best to keep his face neutral to avoid suspicion.

“You’re too kind,” Amalia spoke with a slight slur she didn’t bother to hide.

“You’re drunk,” Cullen added, amused. She snorted at his accusation and waved her hand at him dismissively. He leaned in close and brushed a stray hair away from her face.

“Meet me at the top of the spire for a few moments? Bring your cloak,” Cullen whispered in her ear, his breath dancing on her exposed collarbone. Amalia shivered at the feeling and nodded, not trusting herself to answer. He moved away with a smile and returned to his post, unnoticed by the others. 

She excused herself and rushed back to her quarters to retrieve her cloak, picking up the front of her dress to move faster and trying her best to maintain her balance. She grabbed her cloak from her closet, threw it over her shoulders, and ran to the top of the spire. When she opened the door to the outside, her face was smacked with a gust of air, teeth chattering from the coldness of it. She waited patiently for Cullen, staring out into the smog that permeated Kirkwall’s skies. It seemed like an eternity before she felt warm arms encircle her from behind. Cullen’s mouth trailed along her exposed neck and left a small kiss right behind her ear.

“I cannot wait until I can be inside you,” he whispered, his tone full of desire. “To feel you quivering around my fingers…my tongue…my cock…as I make you come.”

“ _Cullen_!” Amalia admonished him for his vulgar words, but the growing ache she felt in her belly betrayed her embarrassment. He laughed as he turned her to face him and placed a quick kiss on her lips. When they separated, his fingers grazed her cheekbone and felt the heat upon them.

“Do you want me?”

“ _Sweet Maker_ , Cullen, are you going to make me beg?” Amalia asked him, exasperated.

“That can be arranged,” he replied with a small chuckle. Amalia grabbed him by his collar and smashed her lips against his in a passionate kiss. Cullen’s arms went to either side of her waist to trap her between himself and the ledge. Their shared warmth made her feel even hotter under his touch and she desperately wanted to feel even more of him. She couldn’t take it anymore; she was putting an end to the teasing. 

“I want you, Cullen. _Now_.”

“That can also be arranged,” he said as they made their way back to Amalia’s quarters. The feast could wait a while longer; this was a far more pressing matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then...I feel a little bad for leaving you guys at a cliffhanger, but stay tuned for the super-hot conclusion in the final chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen and Amalia seal the deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the conclusion you've all been waiting for! It's literally just smut so be prepared!

Amalia was never good with words.

She always spent most of her time in silence in the Circles unless if she wanted something out of someone.

But she wanted so much from Cullen. She wanted _everything_ he had to offer, which was why she had him pinned to the wall as she kissed him like she might die if she parted from him for too long. Her body felt like it was going to explode from being so wound up. Cullen smiled against the kiss and pulled her cloak off. He then started to slip the sleeves of her dress from her shoulders. His hands snaked to her back and expertly unbuttoned her, letting the delicate black fabric fall to the ground. He was pleased to find that she wasn’t wearing anything under her gown.

“It seems you were ready for me to take you back here and have my way with you,” Cullen said with a chuckle as he moved her to the bed, abandoning the gown near the door. This was the first time seeing her fully naked and it was nothing short of amazing; her rich brown skin had an ethereal glow that reflected the candlelight, almost as if she was dipped in gold.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered in awe as his hands moved along the sides of her body, admiring every single curve that he found.

“Cullen, please,” she breathed out in a shaky moan. He responded to her pleadings by lowering himself on the bed and kneeling between her legs, taking off his white shirt. Amalia watched in admiration; more and more of his body was revealed to her as he unbuttoned his shirt in an almost teasingly slow manner. 

She licked her lips as her eyes took in the view before her; he was definitely well-built under all that armor. Her eyes followed the sparse hair on his chest and went down to the trail of dusky blond hair that disappeared behind the band of his trousers. _Andraste above_ , that body was damn near flawless, scars and all. His hands rested on her knees as he gently pushed them apart, revealing her glistening sex to him. Her heart was pounding in her ears, heat rushing to her cheeks as he stared at her; she could feel her cunt quiver under his gaze.

“Maker, you’re so wet…” Cullen’s voice was low, his finger tracing from the ink black curls on her mound to the wet slit of her cunt, playing with the wetness he found there. Amalia keened at the touch, angling her hips so he could touch her more. Her reactions made his cock twitch painfully, but he shifted his trousers and ignored it; tonight, it was about her. He clicked his tongue at her eagerness and withdrew his finger. She whined at the loss.

“Cullen,” she warned.

“What do you want of me?”

“I _need_ you to touch me,” she whined, hips angling toward his hovering finger again. “ _Please_.”

He smiled and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. His lips descended to her breasts and briefly kissed them, his tongue swirling her brown nipples to hardness. Amalia’s hands found purchase in his blonde curls as she moaned at his attentions. He didn’t linger and continued his trek downward, his tongue licking a trail on the way down past her navel until he reached her clit. Amalia was prepared for the onslaught of pleasure he was to bring her, but the _bastard_ moved his mouth away. She was about to protest but it was lost on her lips as his finger finally pressed inside her.

Amalia bumped her head against the headboard, the pleasure unbearable as he very quickly added a second finger. He hummed affirmatively at her reaction, taking the chance to cover her clit with his mouth and creating a wicked suction that caused her whole body to quake under him. Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head as he worked her open with his fingers and licked at her bud in tantalizing circles. He could feel her wetness coating his fingers and groaned at the sight, greedily licking at her swollen clit.

“Mmm, yes, give me your pleasure,” Cullen moaned against her nether lips, continuing the torturous motions with his mouth and fingers. She was taut like a bowstring until finally, it snapped. She cried out as a warm gush of wetness shot out of her, coating Cullen’s chin. He greedily lapped it up with a smile and pulled away, unlacing his trousers to free his straining hard cock. Amalia looked down through hooded eyes and saw his impressive cock jutting out from his smalls. He pulled them down and out of the way and stroked himself slowly, the slightly pink tip shiny with precome. _Maker’s breath_.

“Please,” she said, breathless at the sight of him.

“Tell me,” he ordered her as he teased her opening with the weeping head of his cock.

“Fuck me, Cullen. Please, I need you inside me!”

He couldn’t resist tempting her any longer and obliged. Amalia gasped as he slid into her, inch by blessed inch. He started with slow, exploratory thrusts to give her time to adjust to his length before he sped up, hooking an arm under one of her knees and pressing it to the side, opening her up even more to his onslaught. Breaths uneven, she moved her hips in time with his thrusts, their skin slapping against each other and echoing in the room. It was all too vulgar, almost unreal, their bodies molded together as one.

Cullen reached down and pressed two of his fingers against her clit and rubbed it between his fingers as he thrusted into her. Their breaths mingled between them as they shared hungry kisses, teeth scraping against each other. 

“Maker above, I love you! I love you, Cullen, _oh_ —!” Amalia shouted as another orgasm took her by surprise; her back arched up off the bed as she went still for a moment, her vision blinded by a flash of white in the back of her eyes. She was embarrassed by her admission and tried to hide her face with her arm. His thrusts slowed momentarily. He took a hand and moved her arm from her face, staring at her with his intense amber eyes as his hands moved to cup her face.

“I love you, too.”

Cullen held her close and thrusted with abandon. A sheen of sweat formed between them, their pants filling the room. Amalia swore under her breath as he tucked his hands under her knees, thoroughly abusing the new angle. She let out a litany of blasphemous phrases against the Maker as he pounded into her. The sounds were so vulgar; his balls slapping against her ass with each fevered thrust, Amalia’s broken cries of his name, her wetness. It was too much, but then there was more. Cullen pulled out of her and his resolve almost broke from the disappointed whine that escaped her lips.

“Turn around and get on your knees,” he growled, voice strained as he stroked himself a few times. He waited for her to obey him and smiled at her eagerness. She turned and presented herself, even using her hands to spread herself, leaving her body open for him. _Fuck_.

With no preamble, he pushed back inside her; she was so aroused that there was no pain at his sudden re-entry, his size notwithstanding. They both moaned as he pushed until he bottomed out, his hips flush against her ass. She didn’t think it was possible for him to be this deep, but then his hand went to her shoulder and pushed her down to the bed and then—

 _Oh_.

She was so tight from this angle, almost impossibly so. Cullen knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate. His haggard breaths mingled on the back of her neck as he reached around to rub her swollen clit as he fucked deep into her. He murmured absolutely filthy things in her ear, telling her how tight she was, how the squelching sounds coming from her wet cunt made him liable to lose control. The sheer pleasure of it all brought tears to her eyes as she once again felt another climax building up, her body full to bursting with relentless arcs of ecstasy. His cock was splitting her open from being in such a compromising position with little movement; she was completely at his mercy.

“Come for me, Amalia,” he said with a moan, his climax coiling up his spine.

“Oh _fuck_ , I’m—” Amalia was cut off by a powerful orgasm. A vicious shudder tore throughout her body, her nails tearing into the sheets beneath her and screams of pleasure echoing in the room. She was so far gone that she hadn’t noticed Cullen followed close behind her. He gave one last powerful thrust before he gripped her hips so tightly he was sure to leave bruises; she didn’t care. He shouted her name as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his seed spilling into her and filling her to the brim. He hadn't anticipated the sheer amount of come that came out of him, but it had been years since he'd been with a woman, after all.

They both collapsed to the bed, utterly exhausted. He pulled his softening cock out of her and groaned as he saw some of his seed leak out of her. It was almost enough for him to flip her back over and rut into her again until her voice went hoarse. Almost. He pulled the covers up over them and snaked an arm over her waist to pull her close to him.

“Cullen, I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say…”

“Do you regret it?” He asked her.

“No! No, not at all. I’m just a little embarrassed that I said such a thing while I was...so compromised.”

“I’m not ashamed in the least,” Cullen countered, his hand grazing her cheek. “I love you, Amalia.”

“I love you, too,” she said and leaned in to kiss him tenderly. Her heart was fluttering at hearing him say it. “How long have you wanted to do this?”

“Longer than I care to admit,” he replied, embarrassed.

“You’ll have to tell me in the morning,” she said with a smile, closing her eyes.

Cullen fought back the sleep that was forcing his eyes closed to place small kisses on her forehead, her freckled nose, her mouth, whispering sweet nothings to her as she drifted away into a peaceful slumber. He wasn’t quite sure of what was coming next, but he knew he wanted to be with her, no matter the cost. His Templar vows and everything he knew about mages melted away as he looked at this woman, seemingly sent from the Golden City by the Maker Himself. He held her tighter in his arms and mumbled a part of the Canticle of Trials as he also joined her in sleep. 

_“…I shall sing with them the Chant, and all will know, We are Yours, and none shall stand before us.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks! Perhaps I will write another series to accompany this in the future...until then, see you guys around! <3 Thanks for reading!


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